


i promise you, it'll all make sense again

by WiseBlondeHunter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Post-Endgame, id like to imagine morgan takes the mantle, with peter by her side of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiseBlondeHunter/pseuds/WiseBlondeHunter
Summary: Sometimes, Morgan Stark hated her father.





	i promise you, it'll all make sense again

**Author's Note:**

> i saw endgame last night and WOW im an emotional wreck. seriously, fuck that movie.
> 
> although... that part where they all enter through strange's portals and they're getting ready to fight and everyone is back from the snap... that part is poetic cinema

Morgan Stark’s world made so much sense when she was young. She had a father and a mother. Both of them were superheroes. She grew up knowing who Iron Man was because she saw his face every morning and every night. She grew up knowing that Pepper Potts was a hero in her own right even though she never wore the armor her father gave her.

 

Then, one night, it all stopped making sense. Her father left and wasn’t there in the morning. Her mother made breakfast although she seemed different. She seemed sad. Whenever Morgan was sad, her father would pick her up and hold her tight, planting a kiss on her head.

 

Morgan clambered off the kitchen table chair and ran over to her mother. She reached her arms up, calling, “Up, mommy! Up!” Her mother set the pan to another burner and obliged. Morgan stretched her neck up and up until her mother got the hint. She gave her mother a peck on the forehead before leaning back. Instead of a smile, her mother looked close to tears.

 

That’s okay, Morgan thought. It doesn’t always work right away. But it will. It has to.

 

Then four days later, her mother left too. She was woken up in the middle of the night, unable to open her bleary eyes all the way. Her mother was leaning over her with her hair cascading down and tickling Morgan’s cheeks. Her eyes were wide with an emotion Morgan didn’t understand yet.

 

“Happy’s here to take care of you, okay?” Morgan nodded but sleep was overtaking her once more. Her mother leaned in to give her a kiss. “I love you,” she whispered. But Morgan didn’t hear it; she was already asleep.

 

When she woke up the next morning, Happy was downstairs. He did a good job of distracting her with toys and games and movies. He made the most delicious lunch for her. Although… he looked like her mother had before. Sad.

 

Just as they were about to start watching a cartoon, his phone rang loudly. He looked at it and tears immediately started filling his eyes.

 

“Who is it?” she asked. It must’ve been someone he really didn’t like.

 

“Your mommy,” he said. But he was so quiet and so sad. He stepped away into the kitchen and spoke softly into the phone. Morgan fiddled with her Spider-Man action figure while he talked. He wasn’t gone for more than five minutes when Morgan heard a noise outside. It sounded like a fire crackling but longer and louder.

 

She raced to the window to see her mother, encased in her blue and gold armor, standing there with orange sparks fading behind her. She was about to run to her but Happy stopped her. He told her to stay there and she obeyed; you do what adults tell you to, after all.

 

Her mother stepped out of the suit and stumbled forwards into Happy’s arms. Morgan couldn’t see her mother’s face but she could see the shaking of her shoulders.

 

Morgan knew, at that moment, that something had gone wrong. Something had gone so wrong that it couldn’t be fixed.

 

She watched her mother slowly straighten up like every move was painful. She wiped underneath her eyes and looked up at the house. Morgan waved from the window; her mother didn’t wave back.

 

The next few days, she couldn't recall when she got older. The one thing that stood out in startling clarity was the funeral.

 

She was in all black, just like her mother. Just like everyone else there. She saw the faces of people she didn’t know and people she had only seen in pictures. She walked hand in hand with her mother down to the dock. Morgan didn’t like having all of these people watching her when she felt so strange.

 

She felt like everyone could look inside her and see what she was thinking. She felt… vulnerable, she’d remember. She felt an immeasurable sadness that she shared with everyone on her lawn.

 

Before they left the house, her mother told her that the flowers were just a nice gesture. Her father was in a vase that was red and gold. Morgan got to hold it but it didn’t make sense. How could her father fit in a vase? She traced the letters on the vase slowly.

 

_ Anthony Edward Stark _

 

That was when she started crying. She thought she had gotten it all out in the few days before the funeral. It didn’t make sense how she could keep crying so much. But she didn’t stop until she was with Happy on the porch.

 

“You hungry?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Cheeseburgers.”

 

“I’ll get you all the cheeseburgers you want.”

 

\---

 

Sometimes, Morgan Stark hated her father.

 

She hated him for leaving them. If he had just kept quiet about the time travel, he would still be there with them. If he hadn’t said anything, she wouldn’t be subjected to pitying looks when they covered superheroes in class.

 

The first time it happened, Morgan was in the fourth grade. She came home crying and asked her mother to change her last name to Potts. Her mother wiped her eyes and held her on her lap for a long time despite Morgan having gotten so big. When Morgan had calmed down enough, her mother leaned their temples together and pointed at the urn in their living room.

 

“Being a Stark is something special.”

 

“Being a Potts is special too,” Morgan grumbled. She impatiently wiped at the dark hairs sticking to her cheeks. Her mother shook her head slightly.

 

“Not in the way that being a Stark is. Being a Stark means that you’re brave and strong and smart.” Morgan leaned back from her mother and looked at her. Her blue eyes were shiny and wet. Something struck Morgan in the chest; she never stopped to think of what this would mean to her. A few tears escaped her mother’s eyes.

 

“What if I’m not any of those things?” she asked. Her mother wrapped her arms tighter around Morgan.

 

“Your dad is still proud of you. He loves you. All he wants is for you to be safe and happy,” her mother whispered.

 

Morgan sat encased in her mother’s arms, holding onto her just as tightly. They sat like that long after the sun had set.

 

That might have been the first time but it certainly wasn’t the last.

 

On her fourteenth birthday, Morgan did what she did every year since she was old enough to sneak out of her room. She crept downstairs, swiped the small metal device from the living room, and walked out onto the porch.

 

She turned on the hologram and watched her father sitting in a chair, feigning nonchalance. He gave the same speech he had for almost nine years. She had memorized every word, every gesture, every little tic in his face.

 

She watched the hologram three times before finally shutting it off. She held the small device in her hands, staring down at it. She was suddenly struck by an overwhelming urge to crush it. She wanted to destroy it without fully understanding why.

 

Hot tears of anger pushed their way down her cheeks. Her breath was ragged as she tried to rein her emotions in. She squeezed the device until the sharp corners dug into her palms, drawing blood.

 

He knew what he was leaving behind and he went anyways. As soon as he left their house, he was doomed. Why didn’t he stop himself? Why did he have to leave?

 

Morgan tossed the device away from her, making a loud clatter on the porch. For a moment, she was worried that her mother would hear her and come down to see the ruckus. The house was silent despite her worries.

 

She allowed herself several minutes on the porch, her head in her hands, growing colder in the night air. Eventually, the tears stopped and the ball of anger in her chest burned a little less bright. She supposed that was good as she gathered herself and returned the device to its rightful place.

 

She crept back up to her room to find her mother sitting on the bed. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and, even in the dim lighting, she could see the dark circles under her eyes. This was a sleepless night for both of them.

 

Before Morgan could apologize for taking the device, her mother patted the bed next to her. She climbed up on her bed and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. She smelled like lemon and sage. The longer they sat there, the less angry Morgan became. Taking its place was a sadness that had become like an old friend to her.

 

“You’ve got some messages,” her mother said softly, gesturing to her bedside table. Normally, her mother didn’t like her to use electronics past midnight but it was her birthday; perhaps she could make an exception.

 

Two messages from her best friend. A message each from Peter Parker and Uncle Bruce. There was even one from what she recognized at the Avenger’s compound interface. It had been sent promptly at midnight.

 

Morgan put her phone down without opening them. She snuggled further into her mother’s side and breathed in her scent, letting it calm her. A few tears escaped her eyes but neither she nor her mother mentioned them.

 

“I promise, it’ll all make sense someday,” her mother whispered. Morgan fell into a deep, dreamless sleep still propped up against her mother. When she woke, she was swathed in her blanket, somehow feeling more rested than she had in weeks.

 

\---

 

It wasn’t until Morgan went into action for the first time that she understood.

 

She had been training for years. Her mother wasn’t too happy about it but after weeks, months, and years of wheedling, Morgan Stark was finally allowed to join her first fight. She was going into it with Peter Parker, someone who had over ten years of experience on her. But she trusted him and he trusted her and that should be enough.

 

The fight took place in New York where a new branch of HYDRA had popped up. The mission was to infiltrate the building, get some intel, and get out. Neither of them was supposed to don their armor but they had to be prepared.

 

Placing the arc reactor on her chest had taken some getting used to but now it felt natural. Peter, now a grown man with a family of his own, stood beside her. He rounded the corner of the building while Morgan stayed back; the arc reactor was noticeable after all.

 

It only took a few minutes but the door she was standing next to eventually swung open and Peter peeked his head out. With a smile, he motioned to her. They manage to get all the way to their goal before anything happened.

 

Three gunshots sounded out, hitting the bulletproof door, denting it only slightly. Morgan’s hands flew over the keyboard as she downloaded the necessary files.

 

“Morgan, they’re gonna get in soon,” Peter said.

 

“I’ve almost got it,” she murmured. She tapped the arc reactor twice and kept typing. The armor spread over her body, encasing her completely. As soon as the helmet went up and over her head, the door burst open. She raised her hand and fired off a few blasts.

 

“Get behind me!” she shouted. Peter obliged, having put on his own suit a few moments prior. The guards shot at her but none of the bullets penetrated. Peter stood and started firing off different webs to draw the guards attention.

 

“It’s Iron Man!” one of the guards shouted. That name caused her hand to falter; she almost made a mistake that could have cost them some time. She shook her head, drawing her focus back to the task at hand.

 

Peter leaped over the desk to engage in hand-to-hand with the guards. He held his own… for a while, at least. Morgan didn’t see what happened but suddenly Peter went down with a guard on top of him.

 

“Hey!” he shouted. Morgan immediately vaulted the desk and lunged into combat. She started with the guard on top of Peter before taking on the others. They were pushed farther and farther back into the office until Morgan’s back hit the desk. They had nowhere to go and they were out of options.

 

“We just have to take what we can get,” Morgan called to Peter. He motioned for her to get on with it. She took the flash drive out and it melded in seamlessly with the rest of her armor. She whirled, fired at one of the windows to shatter it, and turned back to Peter.

 

He had his back to one of the guards, completely unaware of the man creeping up behind him. Morgan lunged forwards. She wrapped her arms around Peter and took the spray of bullets to her back. Had she not been in her armor, she would’ve died instantly. In fact, Morgan had forgotten that they were both in virtually indestructible armor.

 

She had been prepared to die to save someone she loved.

 

She froze with the realization of that fact. Peter was still moving, however. He slapped her arms in an effort to get her off of him.

 

Morgan jumped back into action, blasting guards away with one hand, keeping that other arm wrapped around Peter’s waist.

 

“Come on, dude, we gotta go,” she called. She fired up her thrusters and sent them both out the window, falling for a few stories before she kicked them back on and flew them away to somewhere discreet.

 

“Did you get-” Peter started. Morgan yanked out the flash drive and handed it over.

 

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” she said. She had to get back home. She had to share this revelation.

 

“But, what-”

 

She was already gone.

 

The flight home took no more than fifteen minutes but it felt like an eternity. She landed in the front yard and retracted her armor in the same moment. Her mother’s car was in the driveway; knowing she was home made Morgan’s heart lighter. She raced into the house to find her mother in the living room, reading a magazine.

 

“I understand,” Morgan said, her breath hitching. She didn’t realize she was crying.

 

“You understand what?” her mother asked. She set the magazine down and stood up. Morgan stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. All she could get out of her mouth was sobs for a few moments.

 

When she could speak, she said, “I understand why dad did it. I understand why he left.” Her mother gently held her.

 

“I told you it’d make sense,” she said softly. Although Morgan couldn’t see her face, she was certain her mother had a small smile on her face.

 

Morgan lifted her gaze to behind her mother. She looked at where her father’s urn sat, glinting in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows.

 

_ I love you 3000,  _ she thought. Maybe it was just her imagination but she could’ve sworn she felt a warm sensation from head to toe. It wasn’t audible but she could feel it in her bones.

 

_ I love you 3000. _


End file.
